


His

by AlastorGrim



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dark Dib, Frottage, Gore, Guro, Insanity, Masturbation, Not Actually As Dark As It Looks, Other, Pilot Dib, Smut, Sort Of, Stockholm Syndrome, Things get weird, Vivisection, mentions of torture, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 18:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlastorGrim/pseuds/AlastorGrim
Summary: "Hands steady, Space Boy!""Then stop speaking, Dib-creature," Zim snapped weakly, claws shaking slightly. He took a deep breath, then restarted his line. "Your chest moving is already bad enough."
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	His

**Author's Note:**

> This is my version of Pilot Dib! Which means he has some backstory.
> 
> He was experimented on as a child by Professor Membrane hen he got tired of his 'defect' son not doing what he was made for, which was follow him into his field to take over the Labs one day. Instead of fixing Dib, he broke him beyond repair, his mind snapping after an experiment in which he lost his arm.
> 
> Dib now works at Membrane Labs, following in his father's footsteps, but there's always been something...off, about him that makes his coworkers stay far, far away from him. He's rarely ever seen without a too wide smile and too sharp teeth.
> 
> Zim arrived just after Membrane started experimenting on Dib, so Dib was too exhausted to notice him most of the time. Zim took notice of Dib, however, even tried to help him escape his father once. It got him captured and strung up in lower labs to be forgotten by humanity, where he couldn't send Dib chasing after the supernatural again.
> 
> Years later, Dib finds him again and returns the favor to break Zim out. Only, he'd grown a little (a lot) obsessed in the time between then, and so now he keeps Zim locked in his basement, "safe" from other humans. But Dib experiments on Zim too. 
> 
> So there you go, all caught up.

The slow _drip, drip, drip_ of a leaky pipe echoed softly in his ears as he counted the seconds with anticipation. Eagerness. The basement was cold, almost enough to mist his breath when it slipped past his lips.

Chilled metal always heightened sensation. He felt like his skin was a net of livewire, so aware was he of every shifted breeze, every change in temperature, every swish of cloth.

Dib let out a shaky gasp as the sharp edge of the scalpel bit into his skin, tracing achingly slowly down his chest and over his stomach. Pain sloughed through his veins like molten lava, pinging off connected nerves until his entire body _burned_ with it. He groaned.

The scalpel stuttered on its path, and Dib let out a high, tittering giggle. 

"Hands steady, Space Boy!"

"Then stop speaking, Dib-creature," Zim snapped weakly, claws shaking slightly. He took a deep breath, then restarted his line. "Your chest moving is already bad enough."

"Mm. Maybe after this, we'll see how long I can hold my breath before my lungs collapse. Sounds like fun, yeah?"

"Not as much as your current silence would," Zim grumbled with a glare at the rising and falling flesh beneath his blade.

Dib went quiet, less because Zim complained, and more because the pain had begun to overwhelm him again. He lolled his head back as Zim made two more incisions over his pectorals, then wiggled his little gloved fingers in between the peaks of muscles to peel it back. 

This wasn't the first time Dib had been cut open. Hell, it wasn't even the first time he'd been cut open without anesthesia. But this time, there were no blank goggles staring down at him, judging, like the Devil before the dead. 

(_Nothing but another experiment that he couldn't stand to see fail. One he refused to let go of._

_Made in his image. _

_Made like him, of him, for him--to be him._

_Do you think yourself God, Father?_)

The simmering pools of wondering magenta alighted upon the sight of him with something like awe. Reverence. It made his mouth water.

Zim raised the scalpel once more to slice through the paper thin tissue between him and Dib's organs, pulling it back and pinning it with one of the neon green pins Dib kept by his desk. Well. He was glad Zim came prepared, in any case.

Black gloved hands reached out and slowly, slowly, caressed red-stained ribs. 

"Snap them," Dib whispered as his hands curled into fists, one leg sliding up to bend at the knee and place his boot near his hip. A lever. He licked his lips, grinned, and arched his back to push his ribcage into Zim's careful _careful **careful**_ hands. "I know you want to. I know you can, Zim. Break them off like little twigs, so you can get at the _goods_." Dib's grin cracked right down the middle, like glass, and his voice warbled for moment before snapping back right into his regular, horrid giggling. 

"They will not heal if I break them incorrectly," Zim said firmly, more to himself than Dib. Refraining from snapping them like those candy bars Dib always brought him.

"Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will always hate me!" Dib sang, tone lilting into something mocking as his grin twisted into a smirk, cruelty dripping off its ends like a lover's spit. "Sticks and stones, sticks and stones, sticks and stones--aHA!" He let out a single, barking laugh, before his head snapped to Zim again, eyes wide and wild, teeth bared and sharp and _feral_. "So bury your fucking _hatchet_, Space Boy," He snarled, fangs glinting and ready to _bite_.

Zim's hand tightened around Dib's rib, and he cracked it off with a scowl on his lips, incited. He made quick work of the rest, and as he emptied Dib's chest cavity of its structural supports, he watched the human gradually settle back down. A dulled, metallic hand slid into unruly black hair and pulled, slow and agonizing. 

Zim let out a breath.

Dib's other hand, pale and veined and scarred, flopped over towards the wooden table set by the head of the operating table, the sleeve of his lab coat already tainted with red. It smeared, dark and viscous, across the oak of the table, as trembling fingers found what they were looking for and brought it back to Dib's lips.

A singular antenna, crooked and stiff and frayed at the ends, found its home between Dib's canines, the bittersweet musk dulled by time and repeated fidgeting. He closed his lips around it, shut his eyes and leaned his head back with a sigh. Dib ran his tongue across the end of it until the prickly edges drew blood.

Worse than cigarettes. So much more addicting.

Zim grimaced at the sight of it, but didn't comment. He knew better. Instead, he returned, fascinated, to the jumble of organs before him.

They were covered in a thick coat of scarlet that pulsed in time with them and spilled like hot fudge out over the jutting points of Dib's hip and collarbones until it pooled, tacky and rusted, onto the once pristine white of Dib's lab coat. It would stain.

_Good._

A thin, serpentine tongue flickered out of Zim's lips in anticipation. He rubbed his thighs together, leaned over Dib's mauled open torso, and pulled out the human's intestines roughly.

"O-Oh, _fuck_," Dib gasped, eyes shooting back open as his back arched once more, rigid. The metal hand clasped in his hair shot back down to grip the cot, screeching across the edge like nails on a chalkboard.

Both of them were too enamored to care.

Intestines removed, Zim shuddered as the sight of visceral kidneys, lungs, the stomach--all pulsing and undulating in time with the thundering beat of the Dib's heart. Zim cupped the stomach in both hands and held the slick, pinkened thing up to the light. It thudded in his hands, squirmed like something sentient, and sloughed that yolky, purple sheen of dampness onto his gloves.

Pupils dilated, yellow eyes watched intently as Zim took one hand away from the organ in his grip--and wrapped his tongue around his fingers, tasting. Those pretty pink eyes fluttered shut and Zim sucked his fingers into his mouth with a soft noise of pleasure. Dib's hips twitched, unbidden, at the sight.

Lolling his head to the side with a soft, dopey smile, Dib trailed his fingertips down the bloody ridge of his flesh with a hum of satisfaction.

Zim cleaned the rest of his hand with an eager tongue, before dropping the stomach entirely to do the same to the other. His legs pressed together tightly to keep his tumescence at bay, but Zim was fighting a losing battle. The taste of Dib all over his hands had him shivering with need, the salted musk and embittered sweetness making his spooch twist with a pleasant heat. 

A glance up was all it took. Just the sight of Dib gently trailing his fingers over his own heart, then tracing them back to his lips to lick the blood off them with reverence--it drove Zim _mad_.

His phallas burst out of him like a beast, wriggling and reaching towards the Dib's sprawled and prone body, but Zim managed to cup his hands back over it with a groan. He rubbed himself and whined, high pitched, into the humid air between them. "Dib. D-Dib please."

Dib laughed, the sound genuinely amused for once, and his half-lidded gaze turned to Zim. He dipped his head once.

Zim hastily clambered onto the cot as well, straddling Dib's waist and ripping open the fly of his slacks. The flushed head of the human's cock peeked out of his boxers, and Zim wasted no time in shredding those as well so that his length could wrap tightly around that deplorable, delectable cock. The heat pumping firmly beneath it sent Zim into a frenzy, and he leaned forward once more, hips rutting aimlessly as he dug his claws into Dib's sides. 

"Ah--Irk, _yes_," He panted out, moans falling from his mouth like lies as white hot ecstasy crackled through his veins like electricity.

"It's a eat or be eaten world, Zim," Dib breathed as he gripped Zim's PAK and ground him down with every thrust. It was a high and low unlike any other. "So let's do both."

Something garbled and wild spilled out of Zim's mouth as he nuzzled forward into Dib's mess of a torso with a keen. He dragged his lips across the pounding, pulsing surface of Dib's heart, then flicked his tongue out and curl around the fluttering muscle. 

And while Dib tasted like the vast expanse and depth of death--his heart was hot with _life_.

Zim pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the organ once more as his entire body spasmed and jerked, cum spurting from his length and slicking stickily in between them. His fangs grazed Dib's heart, just lightly, but it was enough for Dib to curse and jerk, crushing Zim in his hold as he fucked up into the loosening hold of Zim's phallas. White joined pink in the mess of their hips, and Dib went boneless against the metal of the cot, eyes drooping and fading behind his glasses. 

Chest heaving, Zim allowed himself a few more moments to lay there, cradled by the jagged edges of Dib's bones and the warmth of his slowing blood. The mountain thunder of his heart throbbed gently against Zim's temple, growing ever slower with every minute that passed.

But eventually, Zim pulled himself up, dusted himself off, and began to meticulously rebuild his human. 

He could fix the stomach, the intestines, the ribs, the blood; of course he could. Zim would always fix whatever he broke in his Dib. But he would never be able to fix his mind. 

To be honest, Zim hadn't tried. He liked Dib this way, however cruel he was. 

Because at the end of the day, this was the Dib that saved him. Not the one that Zim couldn't save. One who could save himself, but _didn't_. Now only left with echoes of feelings and an insatiable (often dangerously sadistic) curiosity.

But Zim's Dib was his. And it didn't matter which Dib he was--as long as he was Zim's.

**Author's Note:**

> I follow invadedzim and my-secret-alien-stash on tumblr, so that should let you know where the hell this came from.
> 
> It's 2 am plz kill me sorry for typos


End file.
